


The Moments in Between

by alliemack30



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Family, Friendship, I just need more Discovery family fics, Let them all be friends and hang out together and have everything be ok for like four seconds please, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 14:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17184599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliemack30/pseuds/alliemack30
Summary: Just some snippets of life aboard the Discovery. Some could fill gaps in the episodes, some could be origin/background/AU stories, and some (most?) might be pointless fluff.Likely to be 99.9 percent oneshots.





	1. People Need Other People

**Author's Note:**

> I was curious about how Michael brought her concerns to the medical staff when she was worried about the Tardigrade being sentient. Like, Starfleet’s first mutineer was not making any fast friends really on that ship, so I can’t imagine people would be falling over themselves to really help her or trust her or really even listen to her at all. 
> 
> And so this little nugget of an idea came to be, that Michael felt comfortable with Hugh enough to bring her concerns directly to him, instead of the CMO, because she knew he’d listen, at the very least. And that Hugh, knowing how to deal with people who maaaaaaybe don’t always present the depth of their feelings very well, would be willing to connect with her when she first came aboard.

He’d first met Michael Burnham when she’d come aboard ship and had been required to get a bioscan, after it became clear that she would be staying for a while. She’d reported to sick bay as ordered only to have doctor after doctor pass her over, prioritizing paperwork and reconfiguring tricorders over treating Starfleet’s first mutineer.

So she’d waited, sitting stonily on one of the narrow examination tables, her mouth in an impeccably thin line and hands folded in her lap. Her face was schooled into carefully blank expression, but Hugh would have been blind not to have seen the pain in the woman’s dark eyes.

He’d volunteered to complete the examination himself. His dedication to the Hippocratic oath wasn’t limited, and he’d made it a practice to form his own opinions of others before making judgments, anyhow.

After the necessary introductions, he began scanning his tricorder over her torso.

“So how are you feeling today?” He said pleasantly.

“Fine.” There was a flat, sharp edge to her tone; Hugh didn’t need his tricorder to see the tension rolling off of her in waves. She didn’t meet his eyes.

“How are you settling in aboard ship?” He tried again.

“You don’t have to do this,” Burnham muttered softly, eyes still trained ahead.

Hugh continued the scan. “Seeing as I’m only half way through, I would say I do.”

Burnham’s eyes flicked up to his briefly, and then to the floor. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow at her, focused still at the scan at hand. “Oh, really?”

“I know no one wants me here. You don’t need to pretend that you do. I assure you it won’t have any affect on my performance.”

“Agree to disagree on that. I would imagine it would be pretty exhausting, to feel unwanted all of the time. Pretty big drain on your health.”

“If my physical performance relied on the emotional gratification of being liked by others, I would not have been fit to serve aboard a starship.” 

The comment threw him. It could have come verbatim from Paul (in fact, he was sure it _had_ at some point, albeit far less eloquently) and the thought made him pause the exam to look Burnham in the eyes. They were dark and impassive, but Hugh could see the wall built in them as clearly as he saw the one every today in Paul’s.

“I wasn’t talking physical,” he said gently, resuming the exam. “Your mental and emotional health is just as important as your ability to lift a phaser.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, so Vulcan that Hugh couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Well, maybe it isn’t Starfleet’s priority right now, but I think it should be.”

Her face softened for the briefest of moments.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here because the Captain wants me to be. I don’t need connections for that.”

Hugh finished his final scan, and input the data into the tricorder to update Burnham’s official medical file. “All done.”

She nodded at him slightly, face hardened back into the mask she had been wearing when she entered.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Not a problem.”

She slipped off the exam table, straightening her uniform shirt as she did so, and moved towards the sickbay exit.

Hugh was an empathetic person; you had to be, he believed, in order to really succeed in his field. He’d made it a point to ask how his patients were feeling, not just physically, and really listen. So many of his colleagues were clinical, precise– _fix_ this bone, _repair_ this artery, and move on to the next in a cold, assembly line of the wounded–but how could you care for a patient physically, if you didn’t care for them mentally? _Emotionally_?

But it was honestly Paul he thought of–guarded, closed off but _vulnerable_ Paul–when he called her back. The durasteel that could be in his tone, the stiffness in his shoulders-but, in equal measure, the fear and vulnerability he tried to hide that only Hugh seemed to be able to get to the heart of.

“Michael.”

Her shoulders stiffened slightly at the use of her first name, but she stopped and turned back to face him. He took a step towards her, and extended his hand.

Burnham flicked her eyes to the offered hand and then back up to him, confused. Warily, she took it and allowed him to shake.

“People need other people, Burnham. It’s how we get by.” He squeezed her hand briefly, and let it go. “If you ever need anything here, you can always ask for me.”

Skepticism and hope warred on her face for a moment, but both disappeared and her expression was blank before he had a chance to decipher the winner. She nodded her head stiffly, and again moved towards the exit, shoulders squared, chin raised.

But she glanced back at him before she reached the doors, her mask slipping ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Doctor Culber,” she said softly. She allowed the corners of her lips to curve up into the smallest of smiles; had Hugh not been so adept at reading virtually unreadable people, he might have missed it.

 

* * *

 

Find me on [Tumblr](http://alliemack30.tumblr.com/). 


	2. Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won’t settle until things are set right and true."  
> -Craig Silvey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when Tilly accidentally tells Culber that there have been horrendous side effects to Stamets’s jumps was so quick, but I kept thinking about that look Stamets shot her as he turned to get into the chamber. He looks so angry with her for blabbing, but also so hurt—he isn’t a dude that seems to trust people easily, and in that moment Tilly has revealed a VERY big (if not the biggest) secret of his to the ONE person that they were keeping it from. He hadn’t even been keen on her helping him (or even admitting there was a problem) in the first place, and I was curious as to how everything shook out between them after that moment. Takes place after that moment, but before he goes back in at the end of the episode and everything falls to shit.

Stamets all but collapsed into Dr. Culber’s arms as soon as he let go of the chamber doorway. Tilly quickly rushed over to help, supporting his weight and helping him steady himself against the doctor’s side.

Beside them, the bio read out screen flashed red.

Culber worked the cuff off of Stamets’s arm, carefully sliding it over the cybernetic implant on his forearm before dropping it to the floor. The scientist’s head lolled heavily, resting with a soft thud against the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Paul.” Culber put a hand to his face, forcing it gently upwards to meet his eyes. Worry and fear were evident on his face, but his voice was level. “Paul, talk to me.”

Stamets blinked blearily at him, confusion clouding his gaze.

“Who’re you?” he slurred.

Tilly’s breath caught. Culber’s hand froze on Stamets’s face, shock widening his eyes.

“Paul–”

The scientist ignored him, turning his head to Tilly. His eyes were glazed and unfocused.

“The woods’re lovely, Captain,” he murmured to a spot several millimeters to her right. “Dark….and deep…”

As if someone turned off a switch, his eyes rolled back and he sagged bonelessly against them both. His sudden dead weight nearly buckled Tilly’s knees, but Culber sprang to action, locking his arm around the scientist’s back and looping one of his lifeless arms around his shoulders. The worry on his face had tripled, if that was at all possible, but there was durasteel in his tone as called for the emergency transport to Sick Bay.

A cacophony of voices began shouting orders, klaxons ringing warnings and the flashing of red alarms danced at the edge of her vision, but all Tilly could register at that moment was the devastation on the doctor’s face as he disappeared in the wash of the beam.

* * *

 

The ship had calmed considerably around her since the battle. The threat had been neutralized; the Klingon Ship of the Dead bursting apart in a fiery blaze that even the Captain hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from. Michael and Ash had returned safely to the Discovery, the former even allowing Tilly to crush her into a hug for a full five seconds before breaking away. All was well.

Kind of.

She’d heard from Michael that Lieutenant Stamets was alive; she’d seen him only briefly in sickbay while Dr. Culber was repairing her injuries. He’d been in a private room, one of the few in the medbay reserved for the most severe cases, so she hadn’t been able to discern much about his condition. He hadn’t been awake.

Tilly had tried to check on his status through the computer in her quarters, but access had been denied to everyone except for the Chief Medical Officer and the Captain.

“Dr. Culber wouldn’t be on active duty if things were really bad,” Michael assured her, gentle hands on Tilly’s elbows to keep her steady. “It’s going to be alright.”

But Michael didn’t know about the side effects, the dizzy spells and memory loss that had been wearing down the Lieutenant with every jump. Tilly had kept that secret for weeks, silently tracking the episodes and promising not to breathe a word. And she hadn’t.

Until today, that is.

She’d seen her superior officer angry before; he was pretty much always angry when she’d first come aboard until the Tardigrade had come along; so the fury in the glare he’d shot her before he stepped into the chamber hadn’t surprised her. But she’d worked with him long enough now to have noticed the undercurrent of hurt, and she knew it had nothing to do with the side effects. He had trusted her, and she’d let him down.

She wasn’t about to blab the secret to anyone else ( _was it a secret anymore, if the main person you were hiding it from already knew?_ ), so she nodded along with Michael, injecting an optimism she did not feel into her voice as she agreed. She waited until her roommate left to check on Ash before she tried again to break past the security access on Lieutenant Stamets’s medical status, giving up after her fourth attempt locked her out of her terminal.

 

* * *

 

It had taken two days (and 3 more lock outs on her terminal) to learn that Stamets was stable, and another day of prodding Michael to stop by sickbay to confirm that he’d been released. Tilly had made the trip at least a dozen times herself, but she’d found her feet had frozen to the deck plates each time she came within a few meters of the doors.

Michael had accompanied her to Stamets’s quarters, wanting to check in on the mycologist herself before her shift started. The two of them had waited for several minutes in front of the closed doors, pressing the call button three times before giving up.

“He’s probably ignoring it,” Michael reassured her as they boarded the turbolift. She had to have noticed the tightening in Tilly’s shoulders after each minute had passed with no answer. “He does need the break.”

They rode to the bridge in silence. As the turbo lift eased to a stop, Michael turned to face Tilly.

“I’m sure Lieutenant Stamets is fine. Dr. Culber wouldn’t have let him out of his sight, if he wasn’t.” The doors slid open, and she stepped out on to the bridge. “We can stop by again later, once he’s had some time to himself.” She gave Tilly a small smile, and Tilly smiled wanly in return before the doors slid shut again.

As they did she breathed deeply, a steady resolve settling in her chest.

Tilly appreciated her roommate’s gentle reassurance, but she knew Stamets wasn’t in his quarters simply ignoring the door chimes. She’d called on him enough early on in her time aboard ship to know that he always answered, even if just to snap at her for bothering him when he was off duty.

 

If he wasn’t in his quarters, and he wasn’t in sickbay, she knew just where to find him.

* * *

 

 

Engineering was bustling with activity, but no one seemed to pay any attention to Tilly as she climbed the steps to and paused in front of the cultivation bay doors.

_You can do this,_ she thought to herself. She tamped down the anxiety bubbling in her chest with a deep breath. _You **need** to do this._ Leaning forward, she breathed into the locking mechanism to gain entry.

Lieutenant Stamets stood with his back to her, hands on the railing of the bay as he peered over the softly floating spores below him. He didn’t turn.

She coughed lightly. “Hey—Hi.” She took a careful step inside and let the doors slide shut behind her. “I thought you might be here.” Stamets didn’t respond, but he turned his head to catch her eye for the briefest of moments.

She couldn’t discern anything from his expression. Anxiously she dug her fingers into her palms, willing her nervous hands to stay still at her sides. “How—how are you feeling?”

He shrugged lightly, leaning heavily on the railing. “I’m fine.”

Tilly joined him at the railing, leaning against it with her hip so she could get a better look at his profile. The soft blue light of the spores floating in the bay cast a bluish tint on this face, giving it an almost eerie glow.

She plunged ahead. “What—what about the side effects?”

The scientist’s eyes narrowed, and he squinted at her sideways.

“Uh, I mean, I know things were getting bad with singular jumps, I just assumed that with 133 things would be a bit more difficult…” She trailed off awkwardly. “I just….wanted to make sure you were okay, after…everything.”

His voice was flat. “I am.”

She contemplated leaving then, but she forced her feet to stay still; anchoring herself with a tight grip on the railing as she leaned next to him and scanned the mushrooms below.

The plants thrummed with energy, not in the mechanical, harsh way the engines did but with a steady pulse that reminded Tilly of a heartbeat. Blue spores floated gently in the air between them, and the thick durasteel doors behind them did a fantastic job of muffling the bustle of activity happening just meters away.

She hadn’t spent much time here outside of duty; usually when she was here, she was focused on taking samples, or trying to keep up with the list of tasks Stamets had put in front of her. Standing here now, with no tricorder or communicator demanding her attention, felt calming. _It’s almost peaceful_ , Tilly thought. Mushroom obsession aside, she could understand why her superior spent so much of his free time here.

Newly encouraged by the calm around them, Tilly turned to Stamets again.

“So…” she began carefully. “So….I know you’re probably mad at me, and before I probably would have just avoided you until I thought you’d forgotten about it because I really don’t like confrontation but I’ve learned that avoiding problems just makes it worse and I need to face them head on and so that’s what I’m doing.” She paused to take a breath. Lieutenant Stamets was staring at her now, confusion furrowing his brow.

“I’m sorry I told Dr. Culber about the side effects,” she clarified. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose, I—”

He shook his head, interrupting her. “It’s alright.”

“No, no its not,” she shook her head vehemently. “You trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. I should have never said anything, I—”

“Cadet—”

Tilly shook her head again, letting go of the railing to flail her hands. “And you’ll probably never trust me with anything again, and I totally wouldn’t blame you—I mean, you probably hate me and now Doctor Culber is upset, and, god, he probably hates me too, and I—”

“Tilly.”

She blinked, startled. She’d served on Discovery for nearly a year now, and she didn’t remember ever hearing the Lieutenant call her anything other than Cadet. She turned back to him and his eyes bored into hers.

“You are not the one he’s upset with,” he said slowly, deliberately. He waited until she nodded in response, too floored by the use of her name to reply, before turning back to the spores.

“And I don’t hate you,” he added. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Oh, um. Thanks.”

Tilly stood awkwardly by his side for a moment. She had braced for him to snap at her-had fully expected it, in fact. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, now. Easing her hands off the railing, she began to move towards the bay door.

“Well, I don’t want to bother you, so I guess I’ll just—“

“I didn’t know where I was, when I woke up.”

Tilly stopped, startled. “What?”

“After.” Stamets had dropped his head to his chest, and she could see his hands tightening on the metal rail. “Usually it comes back, after a few moments, but…..it didn’t, this time. It took a few minutes.” He raised his head to catch her eye briefly, before turning back to the spores. “I didn’t recognize him.”

His voice broke slightly over him.

Instinctively, Tilly reached a hand out to rest on his, patting it a few times in a way she hoped was comforting. His hand flinched under hers and she quickly pulled away, resting it lightly on the rail beside him.

“I told him everything, after that,” he continued. “The memory loss, side effects, all of it.” He tilted his head in her direction. “How you helped me.”

She couldn’t quite read the look on his face, but his eyes were softer than she’d ever seen them as he continued.

“And that when you risked your career to help me, I fought you on it. But you helped me anyway.”

Tilly blinked at him. “Oh. Well, I mean, anyone would have—“

He scoffed. “I doubt that, Cadet. Most of them didn’t even notice. Or they’re afraid of me.”

“Oh….you’re….not—“

He waved a hand. “Stop. You don’t need to do that. I know I’m not the easiest person to work with.”

“Well—“ she started. He looked at her pointedly, eyebrows raised.

“–okay, no,” she admitted. _Where is he going with this?_

“And, as difficult as this is to believe, I’m even worse to take care of.” A small smile ghosted his lips. “As a certain doctor can probably attest to. Most people wouldn’t have even bothered.”

“So….” the smile slipped from his face, and for the first time he looked hesitant. It took Tilly a moment to even place the expression, it was so foreign on him.

“So, I’m sure I didn’t make this easy on you. And I’m sorry for that. For dragging you into this lie with me. And for taking so long to tell you how much I’ve appreciated it.”

Tilly stared at him for a moment, too stunned to speak. Stamets did not dole out compliments—especially not ones that made his eyes shine and the tips of his ears tint the lightest shade of pink, as they were now—but there it was.

Whatever she had expected out of today, this was **_not_ **it.

“You’re welcome,” she said at last, her manners finally catching up with her astonishment. Stamets nodded at her, and turned quickly away to face the spores. He lifted his chin, jaw tightening in a way that told Tilly he was working to bury the vulnerability he’d just shown her.

She gave him a moment, replaying the conversation in her memory.

“But…I mean, you didn’t exactly drag me,” she said finally, leaning forward on the rail. “I kind of…made you take me with you, if anything.”

Stamets snorted at that. “Yeah. You kind of did.” The snarky, pre-Tardigrade DNA Stamets tone was back in his voice, but, strangely, Tilly found it didn’t cut quite like it used to.

They stood silently at the rail together, watching the blue spores below them float through the air like delicate moths.

To her surprise, she felt a hand drop on to hers, squeezing for the briefest of moments before letting go just as quickly.

 

 

Originally posted on  **[Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/alliemack30). **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy writing from Tilly’s perspective. She’s awkward, but intelligent. She’s shown she is willing to put herself in uncomfortable situations if she knows something needs to be done (like apologizing to Michael for lying about the assigned computers in the early episodes, and letting Paul glare and snap at her when she confronted him about the side effects), but she still maintains that awkward, gentle air while she does it. She is honestly one of the most relatable characters in all of Star Trek and I love her. 
> 
> Stamets might be a bit OOC here....but he did have a pretty rough day. 
> 
> ((also Stamets and Tilly friendship/mentorship fics are my kryptonite and there aren’t enough out there. Fic writers please do your thing.))

**Author's Note:**

> These little snippets are probably gonna be too short for a one shot, too random for a cohesive story, and probably a little too unpolished. I originally posted them on Tumblr because they were burning a hole in my Google Drive, but given that Tumblr is being a butt nowadays, I didn't want them to be lost forever. They have kind of been my writing exercises: fic doodles that I come up with when I'm trying to jump start (or calm down) my brain, fill a gap I see in canon, or just want some practice writing for a character I haven't written before. 
> 
> So here we are.


End file.
